I saw them.
Clearly.
My former companions.
Their tired faces, their clothes covered in dirt and dried blood, their eyes filled with something indefinable...
They were still alive.
I couldn't.
I couldn't bear it.
My body collapsed, my legs gave out under my weight.
I fell to my knees, breathless.
And the tears...
They exploded from within me, violent, uncontrollable.
— I... I'm... so...
The words choked in my throat, shattered by sobs.
I wanted to speak.
I wanted to tell them how sorry I was, how much I blamed myself...
But all that came out of my mouth were miserable sounds, moans muffled by pain.
My fingers clawed at my own face, sliding over the grime and dried blood.
I nearly tore off my own skin, as if I could punish myself for what I had done.
The tears fell, burning, endless.
My entire body shook from the intensity of my sobs.
— I... I...
I was suffocating.
I wanted to disappear.
I wanted to be forgiven.
But more than anything...
I didn't want to run anymore.
I wanted that warmth.
I wanted to stay with them.
They weren't dead. They were alive. All five of them.
That was all that mattered. All I needed.
I remained frozen, eyes fixed on the ground, unable to look up. A heavy shroud of shame pressed down on my shoulders, crushing me beneath its weight.
I didn't deserve it.
I didn't deserve that warmth I had longed for so much.
I had fled.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, silent, burning, uncontrollable. And I kept staring at the ground, unable to move, unable to breathe without pain piercing through me.
Then, the warmth.
Soft. Human. Unexpected.
Surprised, I looked up. Marie. It was her. Her arms had found me despite my escape, despite my cowardice.
She held me close, as if I were worthy of this contact, as if I still had a place among them.
"It must not have been easy," she murmured.
Her voice was a caress. A balm on my raw wounds.
"Let yourself go."
So I gave in.
The sobs burst out, uncontrollable, devastating. I knew I was a monster, that I had no right to seek comfort.
But in this woman's arms, I surrendered.
After a few minutes, my breathing calmed. My tears had dried up, but my heart still raced wildly, as if it refused to accept the moment, as if it feared it was just an illusion.
I looked up at them. Marie, still beside me. And the other four, a little farther back. Their marked faces, their scars... They had suffered. Terribly.
My throat tightened.
— I'm so... so happy you're alive.
Silence settled in.
Janna was the first to speak. She, whom I had always seen as an older sister. But in her gaze, I saw what I had feared: reproach, pain, a silent anger she didn't even try to hide.
Then the words fell, sharp as a blade.
— Are you even still human?
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Ah... I had been waiting for those words. The ones I deserved.
I opened my mouth to reply, but my eyes drifted over them. Over their wounds, the fatigue weighing down their features, everything they must have endured in my absence.
— I regr...
I didn't have time to finish.
Janna spoke again, a smirk on her lips, her voice laced with biting irony:
— Because you know... You're definitely the most dangerous thing in this zone.
She chuckled softly. A sincere laugh, despite everything.
Then, without warning, she embraced me.
I stood frozen for a second before closing my eyes.
Then came Léonard, Romain, and Jules.
Our reunion was intense, filled with raw emotions, but brief. No need for long speeches. Just glances, fleeting embraces, trembling smiles heavy with everything we didn't dare say.
Then my attention was drawn by a movement behind them.
A group of seven people stood there, silent, watching the scene. Some displayed cautious mistrust, others a restrained curiosity. But among them, one presence stood out clearly.
A woman.
It was her.
The woman who had treated me. The one who had brought me here.
My body still bore the traces of her care, a strange lingering warmth where her hands had erased the pain.
Marie, noticing my gaze locked on her, spoke in a gentle voice:
— I see you noticed them… Let me introduce you. But before that, come with me. I'll take you somewhere to wash. The others will bring you some clothes.
Her gaze lingered on me, and suddenly, reality hit me hard. I had forgotten how unrecognizable I must be. My reflection would have made anyone shudder: half-naked, clothes in tatters, covered in dried blood. My nails, long and black with filth, looked more like they belonged to a wild beast than a man. My entire body, marked by dirt and scars, had lost all humanity.
A shiver ran down my spine. How long had it been since I felt anything but pain and exhaustion? The very idea of water on my skin, of simple cleanliness, felt unreal.
I looked up at Marie. She was waiting for me, with no visible judgment, just that calm assurance in her eyes. A mixture of relief and shame swelled inside me.
Without a word, I nodded and followed her.
As we walked, we passed through their camp. I expected a simple gathering of makeshift tents, a fragile shelter lost in the middle of nowhere, but what I discovered surprised me.
The camp, though rudimentary, gave off an impression of organization and resilience. A dozen wooden buildings were arranged in a circle, forming a small self-sufficient community. It wasn't grand construction, but there was a clear effort at structure.
I spotted several buildings: a food storage where bags of grain and dried meat were neatly stacked, a large stone oven with light smoke escaping, and drying racks holding herbs and fish. Farther away, a larger building with the smell of grease and burnt metal resembled a basic forge. Anvils and tools lay scattered, signs of constant manual labor.
Next to it, an open-air kitchen gave off the smell of bread and stew, and I saw a few makeshift utensils neatly aligned on a wooden table. Despite their small numbers, they had managed to build a semblance of a village.
At the center of it all, a massive brazier burned slowly, its flames casting dancing shadows on the wooden walls. It seemed to be the heart of the camp, a gathering point around which this small community survived.
I glanced around, absorbing every detail. This place wasn't just a refuge, it was a home, a testament to perseverance in the face of a ruthless world.
And I was entering it as a stranger, an intruder covered in blood and grime.
Once we left the camp behind, the landscape opened onto a small stream whose clear water snaked between rocks, reflecting the glow of the setting sun. The air was cooler there, scented with damp earth and the soothing murmur of gently flowing water.
I stopped, almost hesitant, as if crossing into this space marked a symbolic transition. Behind me, the camp and its inhabitants, still wary of me. Ahead, the water that promised a semblance of purification.
Marie stepped closer, her kind gaze contrasting with the harshness of the world around us. A warm smile lit her face as she gently laid a hand on my arm, as if to anchor me in the present moment.
— The others will bring you clothes, take your time, you need it, she said softly. Then join us at the brazier you saw earlier. We'll talk.
Her tone was neither pressing nor authoritative. Just a sincere invitation, a sign that here, maybe, I could finally breathe for a moment.
She left me there, alone before the stream and my blurred reflection in the moving water. For a moment, I remained still, staring at the face I barely recognized. Then, slowly, I leaned down, reached out to the cold water, and let my fingers sink into the current.
The first contact made me shiver.
But it was a shiver of renewal.
Lost in thought, I surrendered to the water, letting its freshness envelop my tired body. The gentle current caressed my skin, slowly washing away the grime and blood, carrying with it a part of the invisible burden I had carried for so long.
I was elsewhere, suspended between two worlds. The past, where pain and fleeing had been my only companions, and this moment, where, for the first time in an eternity, I allowed myself a moment of peace.
I felt as if I was accepting a change in myself, a barely perceptible but real stir. As if, through contact with this water, I was becoming a man again. Of course, I knew the road would be long, that the scars, visible and invisible, wouldn't vanish in an instant. But it was a first step.
For the first time in ages, I hadn't run.
And, in that peaceful moment, she was gone.
That aberration. That vision. That oppressive presence haunting my mind.
The water flowed over my face, washing the shadows away with it.
I breathed deeply.
I felt good.
Once out of the water, I noticed, laid on the edge of the stream, clothes made of rudimentary materials. Several pieces of fabric, likely salvaged and sewn together, formed a simple yet sturdy outfit. They must have left them there discreetly, without disturbing me during my bath.
I ran a hand over the rough cloth before slowly putting them on. They had done far better than me… Me, the beast who no longer lived, only survived. Me, who fed on raw meat, on what I killed, without thought, without seeking anything but the next prey. They, on the other hand, had managed to reclaim some semblance of humanity.
A strange mix of emotions overwhelmed me. I was happy for them, truly. They had built something, despite the harshness of the world, despite their losses. But at the same time, I felt stupid. Stupid for having abandoned them back then.
I should have endured.
I shouldn't have run.
I should have been there, with them, helping to build instead of sinking into darkness.
I knew isolation had never been the solution. I had always known. But still, I had never managed to be a better man.
They, however… despite my mistakes, despite my absences, had accepted me once again.
So I owed them at least that.
I owed it to them to be better.
I owed it to them never to run again.